Words of Honor
by Larabee's Lady
Summary: Chris and Vin struggle to survive after both are injured in a mudslide and flash flood during a storm. Lots of hurtcomfort and angst.


**Comments: **Lots of Vin/Chris h/c and angst.

Words of Honor 

Sheets of rain soaked the two riders as they struggled through the mud and darkness. Through the flashes of lightning, they sought shelter but there seemed to be none on the hillside, covered as it was with mud, rocks, small, thin trees and underbrush. The lead rider pulled his black hat lower down over his eyes. Just behind, the second rider did the same, even his long, wet, brown hair was plastered to his neck.

The storm had come on suddenly as Chris and Vin were returning to town. With no shelter from the pounding downpour, the two men had been forced to persevere. They each carried an allotment of smallpox medicine in their saddlebags. An outbreak in this part of the territory had caused the vaccine to be doled out carefully among the affected towns. Chris and Vin had decided to split it between them, in case some of the precious supply got lost or damaged.

Now they were slowly, carefully nudging their horses through the deep, sticky mud along the hillside. Vin paid closer attention to his horse when he noticed the animal becoming increasingly jittery.

A sudden gust grabbed Vin's hat, causing him to catch at it and drawing his eyes upward. Now he saw what was causing his horse to react. The thunder, wind and rain had masked the first rumblings, but now a wall of mud and ooze was hurtling toward them, dragging debris with it.

"CHRIS!" he screamed, trying to be heard over the noise all around him. Instinctively, he kicked his horse to move faster. He thought he saw Chris turn, but it was too late. Chris was swept from view and disappeared.

Then there was no more time to think as the wet mud smacked into him, driving the air from his lungs and his body from the saddle.

Vin hurtled down the hillside trying to check his fall, but everything was too slippery and the force carrying him was too great. It was all he could do to keep from swallowing any of the choking muck. With a sickening thud, he suddenly slammed gut-first into a thick tree root. He felt pain and nausea, even as the mud dragged him over the root and continued to carry him down the hillside.

For a split second he felt airborne, and then he landed with a splash, submerged in a usually-dry gully that was rapidly filling with water. Vin's torso protested in agony as he broke the surface. He wasn't out of danger yet. Water was rushing all around him, carrying him along past broken trees and clumps of brush, even as dislodged rocks pelted the water around him.

Vin decided his only chance of survival was to try to keep his head above water as much as possible while avoiding the hazards around him. And there was still the lightning. He had to get out of the water.

As if in answer to a prayer, he spotted a small, natural jetty created by some of the larger pieces of debris along the shoreline. Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he struck out for it with all his strength. When he finally reached the tangle of branches, he hung on, treading water as he tried to catch his breath. The water still swirled wildly around him, still threatening to draw him under, even as he crawled out of the icy, brackish water.

Chris!

Desperately, he dashed the rain from his eyes as he scanned the wide gully. He squinted in the flashes of lightning, straining to see.

No Chris. Not even the horses.

Heedless of the tempest whirling all around him, Vin staggered along the rain-swelled gully. Somewhere out there was Chris. They'd been together, and then...

Mire pulled at each footstep, threatening to stop him in his tracks. He was tiring fast, but if Chris was still alive, he couldn't give up. Chris wouldn't have if it had happened to him, and that knowledge somehow brought him reserved strength from somewhere deep within.

"CHRIS!" he shouted against the roar of the wind and water, then listened intently. He was hoping for anything, even a feeble cry.

But there was nothing.

Vin staggered through the night, searching. It may have been only minutes, but Vin was sure it was hours. He was shivering uncontrollably and his fingers and toes were starting to tingle with numbness. If Chris was alive and needed help, Vin would need to find him soon, before he himself succumbed.

Finally, Vin stumbled and fell to his knees. This time he didn't get to his feet right away. Instead he stayed huddled there for a long time, no longer noticing the drenching rain.

Damn. He'd lost Chris. In an instant it was all over and Chris was gone, just like that. The guilt struck him all at once, pressing down on him, making it difficult to breathe.

'I should have seen it coming. I should have SENSED it. If I'd warned him just a few seconds sooner, maybe--'

But he hadn't. He hadn't noticed the signs around him till it was too late. Chris has been brushed off the hillside like a fly. Even if he wasn't buried by the mud, he was likely drowned. Not the kind of ending Chris would have expected or preferred. But still...There were worse ways to die. Like at the end of a rope, Vin thought.

Despite his injuries, his whole body felt numb. He'd lost the only man he had trusted enough to confide in. The one man he'd felt close to since he was a child. He hadn't even known it was a hole needed fillin' till he joined forces with the mysterious man dressed all in black. And now he felt a deep, profound emptiness again for a hole in his soul that could never be refilled. He wondered if he could even go back to town. The others were there, but it wouldn't be the same without Chris.

If Chris was dead, he wanted him to have a decent burial. Chris would have done at least as much as him. The medicines were as good as gone, so there would be time enough to search for him, to see that his best friend went to his eternal rewards properly. Vin didn't consider himself a particularly religious man, but eternity was a tricky business and men of a lotta different faiths put a lot of weight behind a thing like that. Men like the Kiowas and Commanches. Men like the Judge. Men like Josiah.

The wet and cold made him begin to shiver. He stood on shaky legs that sank nearly calf-deep in mud. Vin glanced apprehensively up the hillside, studying it. It didn't look there'd be another slide, but a fella could never tell. His eyes travelled downstream along the water's edge, looking for some shelter or at least a way out of there. Just as the lightning flashed, he thought he saw...Was it...?

At first it looked like just a hunk of cloth, snagged on a tree. But something flashed white with each bolt of lightning. A pale hand in a sleeve.

"CHRIS!"

Chris was waist-deep in the water, dangling limply, motionless. His bent elbow was hooked around a falled tree, the only thing preventing him from being completely swept away.

Vin felt his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to run despite the pain that kept stabbing him in the ribcage, but the mud was too thick and too slippery. Scrambling and clawing his way along, he fought his way along the embankment until he was parallel to Chris. But Chris wasn't close enough to reach, and where he was, the water was deep.

"Chris!"

It didn't do any good. The gunslinger was unconscious.

Or dead.

Vin pushed that thought aside. He'd have to go get him.

Slowly and carefully, he closed the gap between them. Clutching the tree with one arm, he strained to reach Chris. Finally his fingertips brushed the wet, filth-covered cloth around Chris's arm. He bunched the material into his fist and, with a savage growl, pulled as hard as he could. He was rewarded by the sound of tearing fabric and suddenly all of Chris's weight was concentrated into one hand.

The water caught Chris's body and threatened to rip him from Vin's grasp, but Vin wasn't letting go. He gripped the tree tighter as the force of rushing water buffeted Chris's body. Vin bit his lip, until he could distinguish a metallic taste against his tongue. White hot pain shot through his left wrist and shoulder, but he refused to let go. If Chris was still alive, Vin couldn't risk losing his grip on either Chris or the tree.

"You better be alive, Larabee," he muttered through clenched teeth. The humor of that struck him for a moment. Or what? What would he do if Chris was dead? Shoot his sorry ass?

Carefully, he dragged Chris out of the water and onto the muddy banks. Pain lanced through his wrist and arm as he dropped the gunslinger onto the ground with a wet plop. He dropped to his knees beside Chris's still form and searched for signs of life. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt a pulse against the clammy skin.

With his right hand, he wiped his eyes and scanned the hillside again. There looked to be a cave, or at least an outcropping a little ways up and to his left. The incline wasn't too bad. He figured he could probably drag Chris up there.

They needed to get out of this storm and out of this lightning. He'd assess the damages to both of them and, when the storm had passed, perhaps they'd find at least one of the horses. He figured they probably wouldn't find both.

With a mental shrug, Vin set about trying to get Chris up into the cave. Chris was just deadweight as Vin fought mud and wind. Every now and then, he stopped or stumbled and, when he did, pain traveled up his arm like a lightning bolt of its own.

The "cave" was wasn't very deep, but it was high enough for an average man to almost be able to stand up. Vin gently set Chris on the ground close to the back wall. He sat beside Chris and started to peel off his own sodden coat. Instantly he regretted it as the sudden pain throughout his left side took his breath away. He grit his teeth and, slowly, carefully pulled the coat over his shoulder and wrist. The shoulder was either broke or dislocated. His wrist hurt like fury, too. Broke or sprained, no doubt. Ribs were pretty bruised, too. Not like that hadn't ever happened before. Yeah, he was a fine mess.

Vin cradled his injured arm and looked back out into the rain before pulling his bandanna from around his neck. Biting back a cry of pain, he used his fingers and teeth to retie the wet cloth into a sling.

He glanced down at Chris. Chris hadn't stirred but his body was beginning to tremble with cold. Both of them were soaked through. Vin wanted to build a fire but the only supplies they had between them was whatever remained in their pockets. And everything was waterlogged.

Vin, though, was feeling a bit warmer. He moved closer to Chris, trying to share whatever meager body heat there was.

God, he was tired. Tired of trying to think of what to do next in their present situation. Exhaustion finally took over and for awhile, he stopped thinking at all.

Vin jerked upright with a start and instantly regretted the action. He felt disoriented as pain erupted in his arm. Where was he? Oh, yeah. Now he remembered. He cradled his wrist and arm. It had gotten hot and stuffy in the tiny cave. He glanced over at Chris, who appeared to be asleep.

Vin started to lean back against the cave wall, and hissed in pain as his shoulder protested. Gingerly, he settled back again, leaned his head back against the wall. At last he stood up and looked outside. It was dawn and the rain had finally stopped. But something had awakened him. A soft moan broke the silence.

Chris.

Vin turned to look at him.

"Hey, cowboy," he said softly, watching him carefully.

"Vin?" Chris replied in a hoarse whisper.

Vin could see the unspoken questions in his eyes. "Mudslide. Flash flood," he offered, by way of explanation.

Chris closed his eyes. "Horses?"

Vin shook his head. "Nope. No sign of 'em." He turned to look back outside at the damaged landscape.

"Vin--!"

Vin's head snapped around at the urgency in Chris's tone.

"I can't move…"

"What--?"

"I can't feel anythin'." There was an edge creeping into Chris's voice. "Vin? I can't move!"

Vin knelt beside him and put a hand on his skin. "You're cold, Chris; maybe you're just numb. I'd make a fire but there's nothin' dry." With one hand, he tried rubbing Chris's arms and legs to encourage the circulation.

"What happened t' your arm?" Chris asked with forced calm.

"Hurt it."

"Bad?"

Vin shrugged. "It'll heal. Feelin' any warmer?"

Chris said nothing. Vin slipped his good arm underneath him and tried to lever him into a sitting position. He figured that if they could sit together for warmth, that might help put feeling back into Chris's limbs. He stopped halfway when Chris gasped in sudden agony.

"Chris? What's wrong?"

No answer. He could the white creases of pain around Chris's mouth as Chris tried to ride out the intense pain. Vin braced him and pulled at Chris's wet shirt to look at his back. He grimaced. It was a mass of swollen and bruised flesh. Chris must have been slammed around in the water during the storm.

Vin quickly eased him down again. "Can you move even a little?"

Chris managed to move his arms several inches from the ground before the sharp, shooting pain stopped him. But it still wasn't much.

"That's it," he gasped through gritted teeth.

Vin looked at him worriedly. "Think it's broke?"

"Don't know. Feels like it," Chris said in a low voice as he closed his eyes. "Vin…"

Vin waited. He knew Chris well enough to know what was coming.

"Vin, don't...don't let me become an invalid, okay?"

There it was. Chris was looking at him, waiting for an answer.

Vin thought about it. He understood where it was coming from. Chris was a very independent man, a strong, physical man, a survivor who got by with little more than his wits and his body. To spend the rest of his life dependent on others for his very day-to-day existence was a hell on earth.

But Chris didn't fully understand Vin.

"No," Vin said quietly. "When you might hang for murderin' someone that you didn't, it changes the way ya think, Chris. About people's lives and about killin'. I ain't never killed a man what didn't deserve it. Never. And I don't aim t' start now. "

He looked at Chris, meeting the green eyes calmly.

"I'm willin' t' help you as long as you're ailin'. But I ain't willin' t' help you that way." He shook his head. "For that kinda help, you'll just have to find someone else."

"Vin, I-"

"'Sides, you're my friend... I couldn't just put ya down like some kinda rabid dog. I won't. And you can't ask that o' me."

Vin wanted Chris to think over what he'd said. It mattered-it mattered very much-and he wanted to make sure Chris understood. Vin struggled to stand on rubbery legs and he had to put his hand against the wall to steady himself. He walked away, mindful to stay where Chris could see him. Maybe it was the cave, but he was starting to feel hot and tired. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his face.

His words had surprised Chris, he was sure. They had even surprised himself. But now he realized that was how he really felt. Bein' wanted for a murder you didn't commit did change the way you think. So did bein' part of a band of seven ragtag gunslingers tryin' to protect a jerkwater town.

"Vin? You're right. I shouldn't 've asked."

Vin nodded his thanks. "I'm gonna see if I can scare us up some food and water."

"You're leavin'?" There was a slight edge of something like fear in Chris's voice.

"I'll be back. Won't go far and won't be gone long. Try an' sleep." He forced a grin. "That way you won't miss me so much."

Chris's grin was equally forced. "Get the hell out of here."

As he left the area around the mouth of the cave, he cursed silently to himself. They were in the middle of absolute nowhere, not too far from town, but far enough. The horses and supplies were gone, and Chris needed tendin'. Their survival now depended completely on Vin and, with one good arm, he wasn't sure he was up to it. Not only that, he was starting to feel feverish and breathing was like he was underwater. He'd be no good to either of them sick, and the sicker he got, the smaller their chances of survival became.

They needed help. And until help arrived, they needed water and food. At least he still had his gun. Not too many bullets, though, so he'd have to use them sparingly.

Vin moved carefully along the slippery banks of the rain-swollen gully. He'd need water, a way to transport water, and a means for making a fire.

'Why not just wish for a fancy hotel,' he thought wryly. 'Or at least two good arms.' His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden coughing fit that seized up his entire body. His shoulder ached with each wracking cough.

So it was starting. That meant they were running out of time.

A movement from the corner of his eye caused him to turn. He stared, open-mouthed, certain he was either dreaming or hallucinating. Maybe he was even sicker than he thought. Could it be? Could it really be?

His horse!

He was afraid to look away, afraid to blink lest the image should disappear. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and opened them again.

It was still there. It stood calmly on the other side of the gully, drinking water and munching the tall grass. The saddle was askew, but it looked like anything else that had been tied or strapped to the animal was amazingly still there. Vin started to run on shaky legs. He had to find a way to the other side!

Sweat poured down his face and his lungs and ribs burned in agony. His legs were threatening to give out on him. just as he found a spot where the gully narrowed. He looked at it, running his tongue over dry, cracked lips. He didn't know if he could jump the gap, but he had to try. Vin backed up to get a running start, then bent over, his right hand on his knee as he paused to catch his breath. He glanced back, just to make sure his horse was still there. Then he began to run.

He leaped.

And missed.

He landed in the water with an awkward splash. Kicking with all his might, he used his good arm to haul himself out of the water. Minutes later, he was beside his horse, gently touching the animal to make sure it was real and to check it for injuries. Except for being muddy and shaken up, it seemed no worse for its ordeal of last night.

Vin's canteen was still tied to the horse. And when he checked the saddlebags, he was relieved to find the vaccine still inside. Some vials were broken, but not all of them. It looked as though they still had a fourth of their original ration., but it was better than nothing.

For the first time in nearly 24 hours, Vin felt a shred of hope.

When Vin rode up to within a few yards of the cave, he dismounted. He didn't want to tell Chris about finding the horse just yet. He knew if he did, Chris would want to leave right away and Chris was in no shape to ride-hell, he couldn't even sit up or stand. Or else he would try to send Vin away-either to abandon him or get help. Both options meant leavin' Chris defenseless and Vin didn't feel right about that. Either way, the horse would have to remain a secret till he could figure something out.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light as he entered the cave. It was probably cool inside, but the fever had taken hold and Vin was sweating profusely as he walked in.

He saw Chris turn his head to look at him. Vin smiled.

"Found some food. Plants mostly. Sorry I ain't got nothin' else. I'd 've tried for a rabbit or somethin' but..." He indicated his injured arm. "Can't clean it with one hand. Found some of our supplies, too. Canteen. Knife."

"Any sign of the horses?"

Vin hesitated, then shook his head. "But I found this." He blew a few notes of the harmonica.

"Great."

Vin held out the canteen. "Chris, you're gonna hafta hold this. Can you?"

Chris raised his arm to take the canteen. He winced as Vin carefully lifted his head to help him drink.

When Chris was done, Vin took a drink himself, feeling the cool water slip down his hot, dry throat. Suddenly another coughing fit seized him.

"Vin?" Chris frowned in concern. "You're sick!"

"No, I-"

"What's that noise?"

Inwardly, Vin groaned. The horse had nickered outside. "Nothing. Birds."

"It's a horse..." Chris began to struggle to rise, crying out in agony as he did so.

Vin pressed his hand against Chris's chest. Chris's face was turning a ghastly white as he continued to fight his own body. "Chris, stop that-!" He demanded in a voice heavy with worry.

"A horse! What's the matter with you? Why the hell won't you-" He fell back, staring, his face a mask of pure agony. "Vin?"

Vin sighed and wiped his hand over his sweat-covered face. "It ain't gonna do us much good. You can't ride. Every step, every movement of that horse is gonna just about kill you-"

"Then-"

"-and I ain't leavin' you here either, so forget it!" Another coughing fit erupted, cutting off any further comment.

"You gotta leave me," Chris said softly. "You're sick and you're only gonna get worse. You should leave while you still can."

"Knew you'd say that," Vin gasped, struggling to get his breathing under control. "No."

"Vin...? By the look of ya, we're runnin' outta time. Best get goin'." And he turned away to indicate the conversation was closed.

Vin sighed. Chris was right. They were all out of options if either of them was to survive. He checked that Chris's gun was loaded and placed it by his friend's side within easy reach, along with the canteen and some of the food.

Vin stood with an effort. "Should be enough there for a day, more'n you'll likely need. I'll be back for ya as quick as I can. I promise."

Chris nodded.

Vin paused to look at him one last time, then headed for his horse.

As Chris had predicted, Vin got worse. Much worse. And quickly, too.

The coughing fits were coming closer together and seemed to last longer. Every labored breath ached. The coughing wracked his body, sending bolts of agony through his ribs, shoulder, and wrist. God, he felt awful. His body had stopped feeling hot and now trembled with chill. He desperately wanted to rest, but that would have to wait.

Home was a little more than a half day's ride away, but it felt like it was the other side of the territory. He had to make it. He had to get this vaccine to the town and bring the others back to help Chris, and that would take at least a whole day. And Chris didn't have any more food or water than that.

Vin hated to leave him. He hated the idea of leaving a man helpless like that, especially a friend. But if it was just a day, maybe that wouldn't be so bad, as long as the water held out.

It was getting harder to keep his eyes open, and his head felt so very heavy. With an effort, he lifted his head and squinted through the shimmering heat. Was that…one, no, two riders headed in his direction. Help at last! Vin ran his dry tongue over parched lips and tried to call out to them, but all he could manage was a weak, raspy sound that caught in his throat. His body started to sway in the saddle. He tried to right himself, and then he was falling, falling into darkness.

Awareness came back to him slowly. All in all, he was comfortable but weak. He was in a bed somewhere The light hurt his eyes. Vin opened them again slowly and looked around. This place was familiar. Nathan's. And there was Nathan, fussing over him. Josiah sat nearby to offer assistance.

"Where's Chris?" Vin croaked.

"Vin?" Nathan stood over him wearing a worried frown. "Don't you know? We was waitin' for you to come 'round so you can tell us. Fever's broke, but you're still very sick."

"Chris's horse came back three days ago," explained Josiah. "Buck and JD found you a little over two days ago. Had kinda hoped to find Chris with ya. Ezra, Buck and JD been out lookin' since then, but ain't found 'im."

Vin stared in horror. "Two days!" He stopped to consider. Altogether it meant Chris had been without water or food for at least two days. And he was still better than a half day away. Vin started to get out of bed.

"I gotta go back for him!"

"No, now!" said Nathan. "Tell us where he's at and when the others get back, they can go get him."

"There ain't time! He's hurt! He's gotta be out of food and water by now!"

"Vin-"

"You don't understand! I _promised_ I'd come back for him! He's countin' on me!"

Buck, JD and Ezra walked in as Nathan and Josiah tried to keep Vin in bed.

"What the hell-" said Buck, looking at all the commotion.

"Where is he, Vin?" said Nathan. "Buck, JD, and Ezra are here now, so tell 'em where he is!"

Vin stopped fighting. He fell back against the pillows, panting from his exertions. "Half a day's ride. There was a slide. You'll see it…There's this gully… It's a creek now… Follow it…Stay to the west…There's…there's a cave just above the creek…" He closed his eyes. "Hurry!"

"I'm on it," said Buck, who was out in the door in a few, quick long strides.

"I'll go with ya," added JD.

"JD!" Vin cried out.

Ezra nearly collided into JD as the young man stopped and turned abruptly. JD looked at Vin questioningly.

"You'll need a wagon. His back's hurt. Broke, maybe."

There was a moment of stunned silence as the implications of that set in. Finally Ezra spoke.

"Gentlemen, let's make haste."

Minutes later, Vin could hear the sound of horses as the rescue party left just as another coughing came and went.

"There, now," said Nathan, forcing a jovial smile. "Calm down. See? JD, Buck, and Ezra'll find him."

"I promised…" His voice trailed off. He turned anguished blue eyes to Josiah. "I left him to die. He trusted me. I promised to come back for him."

"Now, Vin," said Josiah soothingly. "It's not your fault. You done your best."

But Vin would not be consoled. "I never should have left him. I left my best friend to die. Alone."

Vin slept only sporadically. Time seemed to stretch into long, endless hours, while Vin's thoughts continued to torture him. He wondered if, faced with dehydration and starvation, Chris might've used his gun on himself. Unless he was too weak to. God, what a horrible, slow, painful way to die.

How could he leave his best friend out there to die like that? If he'd have stayed, maybe they wouldn't have survived, but at least Chris wouldn't have had to face death alone. Vin couldn't help but feel that he failed his friend in the most profound way possible. Chris had trusted him with his life and he'd let him down.

Vin turned to look at Josiah, who sat nearby while Nathan tried to catch a much-needed nap.

"Where are they? They shoulda been back by now….Unless they're buryin' him," he added miserably.

He turned sharply as Buck, JD, and Ezra burst through the doorway, carrying Chris between them.

"Careful now!"

"Got 'im?"

"I got 'im!"

"Watch his back!" Vin cried out as they set Chris gently onto a cot. Then he dissolved into another round of coughing. As he caught his breath, he watched Nathan work skillfully over Chris.

Chris slowly hovered somewhere between a stupor and unconsciousness, as Nathan tried to give him small sips of water.

"He'll live, won't he?"

"He's pretty bad off right now, but I 'spect so."

"His back, Nathan…Said it felt like it might be broken. Couldn't even sit up."

Nathan nodded. "I wired the doc in Ridge City. With this smallpox outbreak, don't rightly know yet if he'll come. You just rest. You got enough to do gettin' well, yourself." Nathan moved closer to him and put a hand on Vin's good shoulder. "You done fine, Vin. We'll look after Chris now."

"Us and God," added Josiah.

Vin woke up hungry during the night. Nathan seemed to be expecting that. He'd had a bowl of Nettie's soup warming on a little stove. That had been an hour ago. Vin was feeling a little better, but he still couldn't get back to sleep.

A rustle of movement on the cot caused him to turn. He watched as Chris's eyes opened and looked around the room.

"Hey, Cowboy," Vin said softly. "We made it."

"Nathan's?" asked Chris in a hoarse whisper.

"Yeah…Chris…I thought I'd left ya t' die. All that talk about not treatin' ya like a rabid dog…And then I left you there to face somethin' worse. I broke my promise t' come back for you…Wouldn't blame ya now if you hated me…"

"No," Chris said evenly. "Thought you was dead."

Vin was about to say something else when Chris's words sank in. "You thought _I_ was dead?"

"When you didn't come back…Was kickin' myself for makin' ya go." Chris managed a wan smile. "Not literally... How ya feelin' now? You look like hell."

"Don't matter how I feel. You know Nathan's gonna make me stay here awhile."

"Yeah…"

"How's a body 'spozed t' sleep 'round here?" Nathan frowned at them good-naturedly. "Chris, how you feelin'?"

Chris frowned. "Thirsty. Hungry…"

"That's good. Tell me about your back. Can you feel my hand on your leg here?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in more pain or less than when you first hurt it?"

"I'm not sure. Less maybe."

"Uh-huh." Nathan stood and picked up a small tray with a bowl on it. "Nettie sent over some soup. Think you can try an' sit up fo' me?"

Chris hesitated a moment. Finally, with agonizing slowness, and grunting and gasping in pain the entire time, he struggled to sit up.

Vin was outraged as Nathan stood by, refusing to help or to stop Chris.

"Nathan, what the hell's the matter with you? Don't let him do this! Chris, don't--!"

"Vin! Be patient, now--"

Vin watched as Chris managed to sit up at last. Once there, he sat absolutely still, waiting for the shooting pain racing through his body to subside.

"It ain't broke, then," said Chris at last, looking first quizzically at Nathan, then relieved.

"Nah, but I bet it felt like it. I wired the doc in Ridge City an' he sent a message. Said to see if there was…" Nathan referred to a small sheet of paper in his hand. "…'no increase in pain, weakness, or loss of sensation.' From the look of them bruises healin' on your back, you mighta tore some muscles, tendons, and ligaments. You'll be hurtin' f' awhile. But with time and some bed rest," he said pointedly, "you oughta be okay."

Vin felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. Chris was not only alive, but he was going to heal. They both were.

"Pard, looks like we're both under house arrest for awhile," Vin grinned.

"Couldn't ask for a better cellmate," agreed Chris. "I'd trust him with my life."

"Same here."

------------------------------

THE END


End file.
